


What Happened Last Night

by latte_underco



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Sex, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Implied Sexual Content, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Angst, M/M, No Fluff, No Smut, One Night Stands, Pining Lance (Voltron), im so Rr y, just a teeny weeny bit, just pure angst, keith likes rock music, klangst, no happy ending soryyy, smidge of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 05:17:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15381471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latte_underco/pseuds/latte_underco
Summary: The skinny teen had awoken in a bed that he'd instantly recognized wasn't his, under some deep scarlet bedsheets that weren't his, laying on charcoal black pillows that weren't his. After patiently waiting for the heavy cloud of slumber still lingering over his head to pass, Lance could sense a pattern forming around the idea that he wasn't where he should be.





	What Happened Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> wowee my first angst !! writing this made me honestly so sad but i feel like ive filled a klangst-sized hole in my heart :') huge huge thank you to @jmem.drawings on instagram for the inspo to write this! make sure to check out their klangst comic that i wrote this fic based on and give it a whooooole lotta love (link to their insta in the end notes)<33

If there was something that Lance could admit he was bad at, it would be timing. 

The boy just lacked the capability to read when people were emotionally stable enough for him to roast them, or when was the right moment to tell a joke he'd been holding onto for weeks. All in all, it wasn't a serious problem. Maybe he accidentally burnt a boy in his class to an absolute crisp while being the only one to not know he had low self-esteem and took it to heart, maybe he accidentally told a risky Hitler joke in his History class and got sent out. But the foremost point was that Lance made the effort and always apologized after. He asked to meet up with the somewhat miserable boy after their final classes, who ended up understanding Lance's misjudgment completely and forgave him. He returned to his History teacher after the lecture had ended and formally apologized. Yet again, Lance was forgiven. He could 'sorry' himself out of any situation he found himself in due to his poor timing, and never just through sarcasm.

But after last night, Lance had no exceptions.

The skinny teen had awoken in a bed that he'd instantly recognized wasn't his, under some deep scarlet bedsheets that weren't his, laying on charcoal black pillows that weren't his. After patiently waiting for the heavy cloud of slumber still lingering over his head to pass, Lance could sense a pattern forming around the idea that he wasn't where he should be. He should have been waking up in his white and blue bed after being greeted with the sight of his messy, but homely, dorm. 

This wasn't his dorm. 

Lance should have been preparing his limited choice of breakfast (most likely cornflakes and a ration of milk) before throwing together an acceptable outfit and waltzing out to meet up with his friends. Lance certainly shouldn't have been greeted with the overpowering stench of cologne, and what he could only guess was spilled vodka, on top of the dreaded realization that he was strangely hungover. The hungover aspect of Lance's morning wasn't never-before-seen, but it was certainly uncommon.

Lance slowly drew one achy hand up to rub on his sleep-ridden eyes, and his frantic blinking momentarily ceased as he tried to figure out where in the hell he was. His eyes, once they'd been freed of fuzziness, darted desperately around the half-of-a-room he could see due to him being laid on his side, and rather uncomfortably squished onto the edge of a bed. After a few seconds of confused wiggling in an attempt to free his body from its strange positioning, Lance became aware that he couldn't free his left arm, which was laid in the opposite direction to where he was facing. He soon realized that no, his arm hadn't gone numb as he initially suspected. The boy's eyebrows furrowed before turning his head in an attempt to find out why-

No...

No, no, no...

On top of to Lance's bare, slender arm laid a lightly snoring, completely knocked out boy. But not just any boy. This boy looked Lance's age, despite his young features. This boy had long, raven black hair which was heavily ruffled from his slumber. This boy was facing Lance, with one hand under his pillow and one hand atop, and was wearing a worn pair of skintight, black, fingerless gloves.

This boy was called Keith, and all of a sudden, Lance was hit with a flurry of emotions he never even knew he was capable of harboring.

A harsh thumping in Lance's head broke the boy out of his aghast state by making him raise his hand to the source of the discomfort. It also caused him to practically whine at the unfamiliarity of the pain. Lance's shuffling caused Keith to give out a low grunt, and Lance noticed even the slight crumpling of Keith's nose and the way his lips flinched. He noticed how Keith's hand groped at the pillow and relaxed immediately after, he noticed how his whole face seemed to ease at the knowledge that someone was beside him.

It was then that Lance remembered exactly why he was there, how he'd ended up in the same bed as Keith Kogane, the campus headbanger. 

Lance remembered heading to a rowdy bar under the influence of his friends, he remembered the live band playing blatantly vulgar music, and the way he felt it coursing through his lungs and airways. He remembered ordering what was probably one too many Bloody Mary's and heading straight over to the stage where the band was playing a range of electro and rock song covers, none of which Lance knew but jumped along to anyway. He remembered bumping into a rather tipsy Keith mid-way through one particularly punk-heavy song, and by the looks of things, Keith needed help just standing. Lance was taken aback at the least, just to be in the presence of the lewdly dressed boy was a big step forward. Lance was hardly surprised that Keith was at this particular event, what with him being known for his looks, and not just the fact that he was wildly handsome, but the fact that he would parade around campus in attire that ranged from ACDC tour shirts to ripped black crop tops. The boy was mysterious, reserved, and often thought of as an attention-seeker, or an edgy wannabe. 

But Lance had never thought of Keith as anything other than insanely hot.

This was probably what drove him to make slightly awkward conversation and offer to supervise Keith, who had somehow managed to lose all fifteen friends he'd come to the bar with. Keith of course initially brushed Lance off, but what kept the boy persistent was how desperately he wanted to get to know Keith. Lance was pretty sure Keith didn't even know he existed until that night, but after ensuring Keith that they had classes together and he could provide him with more alcohol as soon as they got back to campus, Lance was able to slowly but surely walk Keith back to his dorm.

By the time the two had (finally) made it back to Keith's dorm, Lance was officially aroused. He was nowhere near as intoxicated as Keith, but for some reason just watching the boy walk around his room trying to figure out what he was meant to be doing was wearing Lance's patience thin. 

All Lance was able to recall from then on was that push came to shove, and in an alcohol-induced mess, the boys had hooked up.

Back in the present, Lance's guilt began to create unsettling waves of heat course through his body.

'I'm such a fucking idiot...' Lance told himself.

The boy decided that the best thing to do would be to leave before Keith woke up, and pray he wouldn't remember anything from the night before. With his face starting to drop, Lance carefully removed the duvet from his legs and swung them over the edge of the bed. For a minute, he sat there, with his elbows resting on his thighs and his head hung how.

'What have I done? Things will never be the same...'

All of his once contained emotions and desired had been let free, but at what cost? He'd officially prevented any potential future relationship with Keith from happening, all for a one night stand that neither of them will ever be able to cherish and look back on.

'I should go before he wakes up...'

He'll only be able to look back on last night with bitterness down to his core, no matter how right it may have felt at the time. 

'...I don't want to hear his rejection.' 

That was what Lance feared the most. One-on-one, face-to-face rejection. Seeing the disgust in Keith's eyes when he'd tell him to get out, the hatred in his voice when he'd shriek at him for taking advantage of the situation, the ringing in his ears after having the door slammed in his face.

Lance finally stood, eyes despairingly searching for last night's shirt which had evidently been discarded on the floor at the foot of the bed.

He'd hoped to just be able to up and leave without causing a disturbance, but of course, things just didn't want to go Lance's way.

A soft muffling and the sound of crumpling sheets drew Lance's attention. Keith was beginning to stir, and Lance was worried that if he didn't tear his eyes away from that gorgeous boy straight away, he'd never be able to leave. The boy's raven hair had managed to fall perfectly around his face, giving the effect of a mane, and his piercing violet eyes were becoming visible from under pale eyelids. 

Lance had to move, now.

"L-Lance?"

Oh no, oh God, oh no...

"Are... are you going? Already?"

Lance could barely hear Keith, his ears were being filled with his own thoughts telling him to leave, to bolt out of the dorm and never look back. He could move schools, he could move continents, anything to get him away from the overwhelming feeling of guilt that he knew was never going to pass.

"C-Can we just talk?"

Lance was almost shaking with fear, how Keith hadn't launched out of bed and grabbed him by the throat already was astonishing, and Lance didn't particularly want to hang around for that to happen.

So he tried his best to ignore Keith, not that he could even really hear him in the first place, but failing to acknowledge the issue head-on seemed like Lance's best option. He didn't want to live hearing Keith's last words to him be something unforgivable. He grabbed his jacket from the hanger by the side of the door, clutching at the pocket to check for his phone, and the other to check for his wallet. After finding he'd thankfully misplaced neither, Lance reached for the doorknob.

"Stay for breakfast!"

Those were the first coherent words he'd heard Keith say, and they felt as though they'd been carved into the back of his skull. He could feel those probing eyes practically burning through the back of his head. He wanted to respond, he knew what he wanted to say, but something inside Lance refused to let him open his mouth.

'This was all a big mistake...' He wished he could articulate to Keith, 'It's all my fault. You didn't really want this... You were drunk, you weren't thinking straight. And yet, I couldn't control myself, because I've always wanted you so bad. But an idiot like me doesn't deserve someone like you. Life isn't like a fairytale, our story has no happy ending...'

Lance sighed aloud, screwing his eyes shut for a second before regretfully turning the knob of the door. 

"Sorry, Hunk is waiting for me. And... can we just forget what happened here? I'm really sorry, Keith."

"Lance, wait!-"

The door closed firmly shut with a heart-wrenching thud, leaving Keith, sat up in the middle of his bed, speechless and with a hole in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks again to @jmem.drawings ! check out their amazing works here.. https://www.instagram.com/jmem.drawings/


End file.
